In Our Time
by ilovetonka
Summary: John Winchester is a successful horse breeder and trainer, Dean like his father has always had a way with horses. When Sam decides to leave for Stanford a new stable hand is hired and boarded in Sam's old room. Dean thinks he's a hopeless case when it comes to working, and horses, but for some reason decides to keep him around. AU Destiel at a horse ranch in a small town.
1. A Few Years

**Thanks for deciding to read this! I would like to thank melodyslastfarewell of tumblr for coming up with the idea for this, and hope you all enjoy it. Cursing, drinking, violence, and various adult themes may be found throughout this fic, so if you are offended by any of these you have been forewarned. Another warning is the use of horsey terms with which you may not be familiar, I am an equestrian and will try to not go too over board if there is something horse related you don't understand it will be in a glossary I have made below, if I missed it feel free to google it if you desperately need to know. I hope you enjoy, please review I enjoy constructive criticism, feel free to message me strike up a conversation, whatever. **

**p.s **

**DESTIELL!**

**Chapter One - ** **A Few Years**

"Dean. Dean wake up."

Dean blinked, groggy; it was five thirty in the morning, on a Saturday too. He groaned burying his face into his pillow; normally he got to sleep in on Saturday and Sam got to get up early. He hadn't gotten home from the bar till three that morning, and wasn't in any mood to be up yet.

"Dean, get out of bed." John said shaking his shoulder, he replied with a muffled 'not yet' into his pillow. The bed was warm and comfy, for late spring it had been surprisingly chilly, not quite cold enough to snow – not that that would be any better – but cold enough to make the rain miserable. Outside was going to be muddy by now; it hadn't stopped raining since nine at night.

"Up." John pulled the blankets back.

"Dad…"

"Horses gotta eat."

"Dad its Saturday." Dean said, stretching his arms over his head.

"Sam's got that test or something today, said he needs to get sleep."

"Since when would you let him sleep in for –" Dean started, incredulous, but was cut off.

"Yeah well, he paid for it himself, so get up." John flicked on the lamp and left the room as Dean flopped over, rolling out of bed and dragging himself onto the floor. The constant patter of rain against the roof almost blocked out the sound of his father banging around the kitchen downstairs; but not quite. Dean frowned into the carpet. That was weird; Dad was never in the kitchen that early in the morning. He might've been in the barn already, or still in bed, but cooking was out of the question.

Sighing he lifted himself off the floor and stumbled over to his dresser to grab a tee shirt before padding out into the hallway. The hardwood was a lot colder than the carpet in his room and Dean started grumble about 'Dad being too cheap to pay for the heating'. Stairs were a challenge, gripping the rail he wobbled down. He made it into the kitchen and headed for the fridge, rummaging around for something to eat, his eyes landed on a plastic container near the back.

"Heello." He smiled, grabbing the box and ripping off the lid. Pie. Eyes lighting up he grabbed the remaining piece – which really could have been two – it was apple. He chuckled, satisfied with his breakfast.

"Dean put it back." John said, walking into the kitchen, "I'm making pancakes."

"But," Dean protested looking at his pie, "I'm hungry." John rolled his eyes and took the pie from his son, dropping it roughly into the box and tossing it into the fridge.

"If you're hungry," he reached up onto the top of the fridge and fumbled around, "Have this, now go get dressed; pancakes will be ready when you're done with the horses." John said, handing him a slice of bread. Dean bit it scowling.

"Coffee?"

"Get dressed, it'll be ready when you get down."

Ten minutes later Dean was back downstairs, in jeans and several layers of shirts under a windbreaker. His dad looked up, handing him a lidded coffee cup.

"It's black." John said as Dean took a sip.

"No kidding." Dean replied, turning and heading for the door. It was five fifty now, but didn't look any lighter, probably wouldn't for a while with the rain expected to last all day. Dean sighed, bracing himself for a blast of cold air as he reached for the doorknob.

"Dean wait!" Dean turned; his dad was behind him, hands buried in a flour streaked wash cloth. "After breakfast I'm going to need you to bring Sam to his test, okay?"

"Sam has a licenses dad."

"I have to go visit a guy about some horses, and I want you to stop by the feed store after you drop him off so take the truck. Our order came in the other day."

"Yeah fine." Dean grumbled heading out the door.

The rain only seemed to be getting heavier as he walked towards the main barn; at least they had known the storm was coming. Most of the horses were inside, those that weren't had been put in the front paddocks that had run in sheds. He could feel water seeping into his boots, he really needed a new pair; holes were starting to form at the seams and sole was coming off on the left toe. It was too dark to see anything but shapes, but as he walked past the arena he could imagine how wet the footing had gotten. He sighed; he had needed to drag it anyway.

The lights flicked on in the barn and the horses started to nicker, heads poking out of stalls, ears pricked towards Dean.

"Morning." Dean muttered as he walked into the feed room to start scooping grain and supplements into different buckets for each horse. He started to think about what he needed to get done today. He needed to feed not only this barn, but the studs and the broodmares. Most of the foals for the season had been born already, only a couple mares were still pregnant. Then take Sammy to the school and then the feed store. He straightened up, and started bringing buckets out. The horses whinnied at the sight of food, pacing at their doors.

"Chill." He said to a rather impatient mare, elbowing past her to get to the feed bucket. Her name was Rose, she was older, and one of the most stubborn horses he had ever met. He had learned to ride on her though, so had Sam. He patted her on the shoulder as she dived for her bucket completely ignoring him for food. He sighed heading back towards the feed room; hopefully his dad would muck the stalls since he had made him get up so early, but doubted it. There were those horses he was going to see, and two year olds that still needed a lot of groundwork. With Sam in that test he was going to have twice as much to do. He dumped the last bucket of feed into the horse's stall, just two more barns to go.

When he got back to the house it was almost seven in the morning the rain hadn't let up, but some sort of sunlight had begun to filter through the clouds. His fingers were a bit stuff and he fumbled with the door for a minute before letting himself in. He was dripping, with mud caked on his boots and the bottom of his pants.

"Dean! Make sure to take off your shoes!" John yelled from the kitchen.

"Yeah yeah." Dean tossed his boots to the side, "Pancakes done?"

"Almost, go get your brother up; he needs to be there at eight thirty."

"Kay." Dean said jogging up the stairs, and throwing open the door to Sam's room. It was dark, the curtains drawn tight, not that opening them would have made that much of a difference.

"C'mon Sammy up." Dean said flicking on the lights. It had been a long time since he had had to do this. His dad went on business a lot, taking horses to shows, flying across the country to look at a few stallions he was looking to buy. It wasn't too rare that it would just be him and Sam for a couple days, when they got older Sammy was able to get himself up in the morning and Dean was just there to drive him to and from school.

"Dean?" Sam frowned, scrunching his eyes shut.

"Pancakes are going to be ready soon, get dressed."

"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute."

"So, what test are you taking?" Dean asked drumming his hands against the steering wheel as he looked over at his little brother. Sam had his head against the window, watching the rain against the windshield.

"SAT, didn't you take it?"

"Dropped out remember?" he laughed, glancing at Sam again, he didn't respond. Dean frowned slightly, brow furrowed and looked back at the road for a second and then back to Sam. "What's up with you?"

"What do you mean what's up with me?" Sam asked straightening to look at Dean.

"You've been acting like this all morning. Like," Dean paused searching for words, "uh, that dwarf from snow white, Grumpy!" He grinned at Sam who just scowled back, "You know, just…taller." Sam rolled his eyes

"I'm just tired Dean."

"Oh don't be a little bitch, you got to sleep in today." Dean grumbled looking back at the road as they went around a curve.

"You're a jerk." Sam muttered leaning against the window again. It was quiet for a while, and Dean caught himself looking at his brother for than once. The rain was getting heavier and the road would be slick, he knew he should probably focus on the road, but he was worried. Sam had always been moody, though he had started to grow out of it as he got older, he seemed stressed though.

"Oh come on Sammy –"

"Stop calling me Sammy." Sam cut him off, Dean bit his lip and gripped the steering wheel, the tendons on his hands making ridges against his skin.

"Alright, Sam. You know you can talk to me."

"Can I?" Sam snapped, sitting up again quickly.

"Of course you can Sam, I'm your brother." Dean turned to look Sam in the eye, who glared back with the 'look at the dam road Dean' look that he gave him whenever he was trying to avoid a talk in the car. Dean shrugged looking back to the road, tapping his finger against the black plastic of the steering wheel in time with the slow squeaking of the wipers. Maybe it was the two hours of sleep he had gotten, but he was starting to get bugged. By the windshield wipers, by echoing sound the rain made in the old metal truck, and by Sam.

"I want to go to school." Sam said, finally breaking the silence. Dean's brow furrowed.

"Where do you think I'm taking you Sam?"

"No. I mean after high school, I want to go to college. I'm not good with horses Dean. Not like you and Dad, I can ride alright but that's about it." Sam's voice was raising, but Dean started to laugh, relieved. Sam looked over at his brother, frowning. "What?"

"No one's going to stop you from going to school Sammy. I think it's a good idea actually, you could get your MBA or whatever, in four years you can come back home. So what you aren't great with horses, me and dad can handle that, and you can run the business part."

"I'm not going to come back home Dean."

Dean looked over at his brother, everything suddenly felt heavy. His throat tightened, and he became quiet for a moment. The rain seemed to get louder as he looked to the road, and then back to Sam, a nervous laugh escaped before he spoke.

"What?"

"I – I want to be a lawyer Dean. I don't want to work on the farm, or stay in this town, I want to move out to the city. Or somewhere, but I don't want to live on the ranch my entire life."

"How long have you felt like this?" Dean asked as the turned onto the street the high school was on.

"I don't know, a while now. A few years?" Sam said quietly, looking out the window as the pulled up to the school, the truck lurching to a stop. Dean raised his eyebrows, nodding slowly. This was his little brother, and he just wanted to up and leave? Get into some fancy school and that's it? Never come home again?

"Okay."

"Okay?" Sam sounded a bit surprised as he looked up. Dean turned quickly, jerking Sam's bag out of the backseat and flinging it into his lap.

"You know what? Good luck on your test."

"Dean –"

"You're going to be late." Dean growled and Sam nodded fumbling to pull his stuff together at the same time as opening the door. Dean watched his little brother step out into the rain and slam the door shut behind him. The massive lanky figure grew hazy in the rain and disappeared into the school. Dean yelled slamming his fist against the side of the steering wheel wincing as the bones hit the hard plastic, "God damn it."

* * *

**Dragging the arena – taking a tractor with a rake like attachment and churning up the footing of a riding arena (such as sand) so it will be loose and soft as to not be hard on the horse's hooves, tendons, and joints. **

**Mare – An adult female horse. **

**Stallion/Stud – An adult male horse that is able to breed.**

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**Well thanks so much for reading and I hope you'll review and follow for the next chapter. Will we see a certain blue eyed someone next chapter? Who knows? Thanks again!**


	2. Angel of Thursday

**I would like to thank everyone who has followed, reviewed, or favorited this story so far! I hope you will enjoy reading this chapter and I would love some reviews! The same warnings apply to this chapter as the last one, and I will continue to make a glossary of horse terms used in this chapter.**

**Chapter Two – The Angel of Thursday**

ONE YEAR AND FOUR MONTHS LATER

It was almost sun set when Dean finally led Cyrus up to the arena, it had been a long day and he was happy to finally get to ride his horse. He hadn't had a chance to ride Cyrus for a few days, there was just too much to do, especially since his dad had decided Dean needed to play a bigger role in training. He'd been spending more time working the green horses than he had with his own.

"All right boy." Dean smiled; patting his bright chestnut gelding on the shoulder he put his left foot in the stirrup and swung up. Gathering his reins he shifted his weight back and Cyrus set out at a trot, the thoroughbred had always been sensitive, and after a few days without work he was more energetic than normal. Dean pulled him back to walk with an 'easy boy'. He was starting to think he should have lunged him or just let him run before he had gotten on, but he didn't want to take the time to do it now. _Jumping will be interesting today_, Dean thought.

Dean and Sam had always been different when it came to riding; Sam had been a lot more casual than Dean. He would exercise the horses and go out on trail rides with the family, but hated competing. John had bought Cyrus for Dean when he turned eighteen; to be his jumper, for the last four years Dean and Cyrus had been cleaning up at shows. He hadn't had much time to ride him, much less show him, not since Sam had left.

Shortening his reins a bit he pushed Cyrus into a trot, the gelding tried to rush forward but Dean held him back, pulsing with his ring finger on the inside rein, asking him to bring his head down.

"Good boy."

Sam had been at Stanford for three months now, Dean wasn't happy about it, more so about the fact that he didn't plan on coming back home after. He was starting to think his Dad was more upset than he was, not that he showed it outright, not since he had first found out. Dean was pretty sure that their dad would have handled it better if Sam had spoken to him earlier, or he had at least known before the acceptance letter came. Maybe that way Sam would have stayed through the summer instead of bolting. He'd gotten a couple calls from him, Sam had spent the summer fixing cars in a little auto shop to pay rent till he moved into the dorm.

Dean had finished his warm up letting Cyrus canter before popping over a few low jumps. He had a course set at about three feet, he had been competing at four and half feet, but he didn't want Cyrus to overdo it since he had been worked so sporadically.

"Let's go Cyrus." He said setting off at a canter towards the first fence; the gelding tossed his head rushing forward. Dean sat deep in the saddle holding him the last couple strides to the jump and rising up into two-point as they soared over and landed on the other side cantering down the line towards the second jump. Coming around the corner Dean looked towards the driveway, a beat up yellow Volvo rumbled up to the house. Dean didn't recognize the car, and it wasn't nice enough to belong to one of his dad's clients. _Weird_, he thought, but ignored it returning his focus to getting a good approach on the next fence.

Despite being more hyperactive than normal Cyrus had done great, Dean smiled patting his horse on the neck and giving him a loose rein to walk out. He was going to have more work to do once he had Cyrus cooled out and taken care of. He needed to go out to the feed store before it closed they were running low on the high performance stuff that one of the boarder's horses got. Dad would be pissed if the woman who owned said horse came to him out of food.

He looked up as the familiar form of his father walked towards the barn, side by side with someone he didn't know. He had dark hair and looked tall, shorter than him or his behemoth of a little brother, but tall none the less. He had his eyes trained on John listening quietly as the older man spoke while they walked. He didn't look like someone coming to try out a horse; he was dressed plainly in jeans and a tee-shirt, not breeches and boots.

"Dad!" Dean called out and the two men looked up, "Can I…talk to you for a minute?" John looked over at the stranger said something before walking up to the arena. "Who the hell is he?" Dean asked quietly looking up at the dark haired guy, making eye contact briefly but he looked away suddenly becoming rather interested at the architecture of the barn.

"New stable hand."

"He new in town? I've never seen him before."

"Yeah, yeah he only just came; he's been staying in the motel." Dean looked at the new guy again, he still had his back turned, hands stuffed into his pockets.

"Where's he going to stay now?"

"I was thinking in Sam's room."

"In Sam's room?!" Dean snapped and the new hand looked up startled, but quickly turned back around.

"He needs a place to stay, and it's not like Sam's using it."

"But –"

"No buts Dean. I'm going to go show him around. When you're done with Cyrus why don't you bring him with you into town?"

"Fine." Dean grumbled turning Cyrus from the rail and continuing to cool out.

Dean led Cyrus out to the pasture, the gelding staying close despite the slack in the lead rope. His shirt and black breeches were soaked, it was still hot for September and he had needed to bathe his horse, and consequently ended up covered in water himself. He wasn't exactly looking forward to dragging the new hand around, it was going to be dark soon and he would rather just go out come back quickly and go to bed as soon as possible. At least he would have someone to muck the stalls for him.

He let Cyrus through the gate and then slipped through shutting it behind himself. There was a big show in a couple months; with the new guy around he would be able to get back into shape, get back to competing. Dean rubbed his hand across the white stripe on Cyrus's face, mumbling a 'good boy' to him and slipped the halter off. The gelding stayed for a moment butting his head against Dean before leaving to get some water.

"Hello, Dean." A voice came from behind him and Dean spun around cursing.

"What the hell?" He looked up to see the new guy a few feet behind him at the gate.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." He apologized, Dean's eyebrows raised, his voice was a lot deeper than he had thought it would be.

"Yeah well give a guy some warning next time." He grumbled opening the gate and pushing past him. The gate slammed shut and he headed towards the barn, the new stable hand close behind.

"My name is Castiel. Castiel Novak." Dean paused turning to look him in the eye.

"Castiel?" he put emphasis on each syllable of his name.

"My mother was very religious."

"That doesn't give me anything bud."

"Castiel is the angel of Thursday."

"Ookay." Dean nodded and patted him heavily on the shoulder before turning back towards the stable. For a second he didn't think this 'Castiel' was going to follow, but it wasn't long till he heard footsteps jogging up behind him. Dean was really starting to question his father's decisions, letting some stranger sleep in Sam's room. Some religious nut job at that, he seemed a little off in the head.

He walked into the barn, heading for Cyrus's stall and roughly put the halter onto its hook. A boarder walking past with her horse gave him an odd look as she walked out of the barn. Dean turned, Castiel still stood behind him, quietly watching. Their eyes met, Castiel looked so analytical, a weird feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. _This guy gives me the creeps,_ Dean thought turning away, pretending to busy himself organizing his tack trunk that sat outside of Cyrus's stall. He rummaged around placing polo wraps onto one side, crops in the holders on the bottom of the lid; he smoothed out the already perfect pile of saddle pads. Turning his head slowly he looked back, Castiel was still there.

"You gonna stand there all night?" he snapped slamming the tack trunk closed.

"I'm…waiting for you."

"To do what?" Dean growled straightening.

"Your father. He told me to go with you into town."

"Right..." Dean turned making eye contact with Castiel briefly, then looking down "right. Come on then." His voice was gruff as he walked passed Castiel, "Meet me by the truck, I'm going to go grab the keys and change."

"Which truck? There are three out there."

"The nineteen sixties model, next to the impala."

"Old cars." Castiel commented.

"Dad doesn't like to let go of things." Dean laughed shortly and then paused, "I'll see you in a few minutes."

Dean jogged up the front steps and into the house; he wasn't looking forward to the next hour or so with the new guy. He was weird… too serious and too awkward at the same time, he seemed like he would be a paper pusher behind a desk, not a stable hand. The door banged shut behind him and John looked up at his son and then back to the news paper he was reading.

"Have you met Castiel?" John asked as Dean strode into the laundry room.

"Yeah! Where did you even find that guy?" He called out reaching into the dryer for a pair of blue jeans and a shirt, and grabbing a pair of work boots to exchange for his tall leather riding boots.

"He responded to an ad I put online, I thought you could use the extra help." John said not looking up as Dean walked back into the room.

"I mean yeah, but he's kinda… I don't know… strange?"

"He's a good kid, seems like he'll be a hard worker." John dismissed him.

"Whatever." Dean muttered heading upstairs to get changed.

Dean walked out to the truck, keys jingling in his hand. Castiel looked up from where he stood next to the passenger's side door as Dean walked to the driver's. He didn't say anything just unlocked the door and slid in starting the engine. The radio started blaring and Dean smiled tapping his fingers to the beat against the steering wheel. It was a moment before he wondered where Castiel was, he looked to the right to see a pair of blue eyes staring at him through the window look down at the door handle. Dean leaned over and let him in, letting the truck roll forward as Castiel pulled on his seat belt.

The drive was quiet for a long time; for once Dean was keeping his eyes trained on the illuminated section of road. Sparing no more than a couple glances at Castiel, not really sure what to say, or if he actually wanted to say anything at all. It was hard to guess what the other man was thinking; he kept such a straight expression. He was turning out to be pretty quiet too, so it was surprising when he was the one to break the silence.

"I saw you riding your horse when I was driving up." He said not looking over.

"You did?"

"Yeah, you looked uh... very good. It was…impressive."

"Thanks." Dean said a bit stiffly, "You uh, you ride at all?"

"No."

"What're you doing at a horse farm then?" Dean asked with a sudden sinking feeling, this guy hadn't been around horses. He was starting to worry he would have to spend more time babysitting him than getting his own work done.

"I've always been very fond of animals. It seemed like it would be interesting. I was surprised when I got here; I assumed it would be a western farm not an English one."

"Yeah we uh breed warmbloods, mostly Dutch and Hanoverians; for hunters and jumpers and stuff." Dean replied letting the conversation fall back into stiff silence again for a few moments. "So you've really never ridden? Not even a pony ride at the fair when you were kid?"

"No. No I didn't go to fairs often. I went once with my older brother, Gabriel, but we wasted out money trying to win a goldfish before we found the ponies." Castiel replied his tone didn't change; it still made Dean a bit uncomfortable how detached he seemed even when talking about something like his childhood.

"So you have a brother too?" Dean asked.

"I'm the youngest of six."

"Six?" Dean's eyebrows rose.

"I have a large family."

"I'll say." Dean chuckled as he pressed the brake, "Alright here we are, Harvell's Feed and Supply."

* * *

**Glossary**

**Boarder – Someone who pays to keep their horse at a stable.**

**Breeches – tight riding pants, classically tan or white, can come in many colors.**

**Canter – A three beat gait slower than a gallop (four beats) and faster than a trot (two beats)**

**Chestnut – A coat color varies from dark to bright coppery reddish browns with matching mane and tail. **

**Gelding – A male horse who has been castrated, known for generally being calmer than most stallions and mares. **

**Green Horse – An inexperienced horse who has only recently begun training.**

**Halter – A kind of head collar usually leather or cloth, a lead rope is attached under the horses head just behind the muzzle when leading.**

**Hunters – An equestrian discipline involving showing on the flat and over fences, tests the suitability for riding a horse in the field, looking for even temper and easy comfortable strides.**

**Jumpers – An equestrian discipline where the horse and rider negotiate a technical course of jumps involving tight turns and brightly colored fences as quickly as possible without knocking down any rails. Tests the athleticism, agility, speed, and bravery of the horse. **

**Lunging – Can be used as a training method or as a way to get energy out, the rider will stand at the center as he has the horse circle him attached to a long rope called a lunge line. The rider will generally lightly flick a lunge whip or the end of the line to signal the horse to go forward. **

**Polo Wraps – cloth leg wraps used to protect the horse's lower legs in certain disciplines.**

**Warmblood – A type of horse that's breeding is derived from a mixture of hot blooded (thoroughbred, Arabian, and barb horses) and cold blooded (draft breeds such as Clydesdales) horses. They are generally large and athletic. **

**Dutch Warmblood – Warmbloods of Dutch origin **

**Hanoverian – Originating from the area of Hanover in Germany(I believe I could be wrong)**

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**Thank you so much for sticking through another chapter I hope you enjoyed and were able to get through the heavier use of horse terms in this chapter if you aren't an equestrian. Please, please, please review, tell me what you think! I love constructive criticism as well as compliments!**


	3. African Daisies

**I'm so excited for the reviews, followers, and favorites I've gotten so far! Please continue to give me response on what you think nothing makes me happier! I would love to get feedback from any non-equestrian readers on what you think about the horse aspects and if they're too much too much to wade through. Also would you prefer more of an explanation worked into the writing or is the glossary at the end just fine? Constructive criticism if you have any is great too; if there is any way I can make this fic better I would love to know! Same warnings apply as always I hope you enjoy! Please Review!**

**Chapter Three – African Daisies**

The pair got out of the car and headed into the store, the tinkling of bells above the door announcing their arrival. Harvell's Feed and Supply was a rather homely looking everything was wood with a distinctly country feel to it. The walls were lined with boxes of muck boots, pitch forks, shovels, and colorful nylon halters. Bags of horse feed were stacked in neat rows in the middle in front of shelves that held tubs of supplements and everyday medical supplies for the horses. Dean glanced behind him to check that Castiel was there, he was, a look of concentration on his face as he looked around the store.

"Dean my man!" Dean looked up to see Ash coming out of the back a big grin on his face, a worn baseball cap over his mullet. Ash walked up and grabbed Dean's hand pulling him into a hug slapping him on the back. "Who's this?" he asked looking at Castiel.

"Castiel Novak." The dark haired man replied extending his hand, Ash did the same as he had to Dean pulling him into a hug. His eyes widened and he stiffened a look of utter confusion on his face, Dean found himself smirking at the awkwardness of it.

"I'm Ash." He said to Castiel before turning and calling into the back of the store, "Ellen! Dean Winchester's here!" the woman walked up front and smiled at the group giving Dean a hug before saying a hello to Castiel who nodded in return staring at her for a second before replying.

"You're very dirty." He stated matter of fact-ly. Dean stiffened slowly turning his head to look over to Castiel, _what?_ He thought making eye contact with Ash who seemed to have the same idea. Dean couldn't tell what Castiel was doing; he had said it so plainly, was he trying to flirt? Ellen just laughed.

"Yeah we have a garden section outside," she said holding up her dirt coated hands, "I was potting some flowers." Dean sighed in relief Ellen was almost thirty years older than him, and Castiel didn't look like he was much older than him if at all.

"You garden?" Castiel asked.

"Well this is a farm and garden supply store, I kind of have to." She said good naturedly.

"May I go look at your flowers?"

"Of course hon. Ash take him out there will ya?" Ash nodded, tapping Castiel on the shoulder and leading him to the fenced area outside. They watched them go Dean shaking his head slowly, when they had disappeared out the door Ellen turned.

"Now where on earth did you find him?" she laughed when the door closed.

"New stable hand. Dad got him off the internet."

"Well he certainly is a character."

"Yeah. He just got here today," Dean paused, "he's a little…odd." Ellen shrugged laughing.

"Well what can I do for you?" she asked, getting down to business.

"You remember Caesar? Lauren Harrison's horse? He's started losing weight since she's been riding more and we had to up his feed, we're running out faster than expected."

"Yeah, she gives him the High Performance from Southern States right?" she asked and Dean nodded, "How many bags you gonna need?"

"Might as well grab a few while we're here, five works." Ellen nodded going behind the counter and punching button at the cash register giving him his total. Dean pulled out his wallet paying in cash, Ellen pointed him to where the bags were, and he headed out into the garden section to find Castiel. The bags weren't terribly heavy, only fifty pounds each, but it would go faster with an extra pair of hands.

It had cooled down now that it was dark, the air smelled like soil, flowers, and hose water. The place was sporadically lit with fluorescent lights that cast shadows of the hanging flower baskets. He glanced around looking for Castiel or Ash, but couldn't see anyone. Frowning he started walking through the rows of flowers, trying to find him. The crickets hadn't died yet and were actually pretty loud, echoing off of the concrete wall behind him.

"Castiel?" he called out and the figure of a head popped up from behind some flowers from a few rows over and then ducked back down. Sighing Dean approached him and crouched down, he was looking at a flower in a clay pot, it was hard to tell in the lighting but it looked like it was yellow. "What'cha doin?" he asked after a few seconds of silence.

"I'm looking at this flower." Castiel replied not taking his eyes off of the plant.

"Really?"

"It's an African daisy. I used to have one in my room." He said the corners of his mouth turning up in the first smile Dean had seen on him since he'd gotten there.

"Cool," he replied, not really sure what else to say, "Well we should get going, I'm going to need your help getting the feed bags into the back of the truck." He started to walk only to find Castiel wasn't following him. He remained crouched by the flower looking up at Dean, who sighed again, "You can buy the damn flower." Castiel opened his mouth as if to say something, but shut it quickly, biting his lip. _Right,_ Dean thought, _he's probably broke._ He strode over and grabbed the flower off of its stand, "You're paying me back for this." He grumbled heading back into the store, Castiel close behind.

Ellen looked up from the counter as they came back in, Dean setting the potted daisy on the counter. She raised her eyebrows, smiling at the annoyed look on Dean's face.

"This too?" she asked and Dean nodded handing the pot to Castiel once he had paid.

"Take it to the truck. Come back in and help carry out the bags after, Ellen will point out which ones." He told Cas who nodded walking out with his flower. Ellen hadn't stopped watching Dean, a smirk on her face. "What?" he growled.

"You bought him a flower?"

"He looked like he really wanted it." He mumbled. When Ellen's bemused expression didn't change he added, "He's paying me back later." She just nodded, placing the money into the cash register.

"You pretend to be such a hard ass Dean," she laughed, "but you're really just a big softy."

"Shut up." He glared, only making Ellen laugh harder. He turned and grabbed the first bag throwing it over his shoulder and walking out the door.

A few minutes later the bags had been loaded into the back and they were back on the road. Castiel was carefully holding his new plant in his lap and watching what he could see of the town in the dark. It was a pretty quiet trip home, the small town fading into country roads through farms and woods until the headlights illuminated the big wooden sign on the road, 'Winchester Stables est.1953' the place had belonged to Dean's grandfather and been passed on to John after he died. Dean turned up the gravel road and up to the house, killing the engine.

"Well, we're here." He said taking off his seat belt and reaching for the door.

"Dean." He paused, turning to look at Castiel, "Thank you….for the…flower."

"No problem. C'mon Dad probably has dinner ready by now."

"Shouldn't we get the feed into the barn?"

"Nah, it's not supposed to rain, we can get it in the morning." Castiel nodded and they got out of the truck. Dean headed up the steps, he was starving and could already smell what he thought might be meat loaf. Opening the door he realized that Castiel wasn't behind him. He looked around to see him by the truck still, flower in hand, dimly lit by the porch light. "You coming?" he called.

"I need to bring in some of my things, I only have a few boxed I won't be long." Castiel replied and Dean nodded heading inside to get his food.

Dinner was a quiet affair, mostly John asking Castiel questions while Dean swallowed plate after plate of food. He had just graduated from USC, a history major. After finding out that particular bit John started a lengthy conversation on the world war two and how it started. Dean had never really liked history; he didn't really see the point in discussing a bunch of old dead guys. It did strike him as odd that Castiel had been college educated but decided to get a job as a stable hand._ I guess there aren't that many jobs you can do with a B.A. in history, _he thought before excusing himself from the table, cleaning off his dishes and heading upstairs.

In his room he flopped down onto the bed, he lay there for a minute before deciding to call Sam. It rang for a long time, with each break his stomach jumped thinking Sam had picked up. After a while it went to voicemail. He hung up and threw the phone onto the bed it had been two weeks since the last time Sam had replied to one of his calls. He looked at the clock, it was eight thirty. He was pretty tired and needed to be up early the next morning. With a sigh he hauled himself out of bed, stripping on his way to the dresser letting the clothes fall to the floor with the false promise of 'I'll pick them up later'. He pulled on a pair of sweats and crawled back into bed, flicking off the light, and promptly fell asleep.

The alarm went off a five thirty and Dean jumped awake, for once he had gone to bed early and didn't have to drag himself out of the bed that morning. Turning off the alarm and flicking on the light he hopped up and went out into the hall. There was no light coming from under the door to Sam's room, so he guessed that Castiel hadn't woken up yet. He opened it quietly, greeted by the sound of the new stable hand's soft snores. It looked like he had started unpacking last night and gotten too tired, stacks of books were perched precariously on the desk and chairs, a couple of the dresser drawers were half open with clothes hanging out of them. The African Daisy was dimly silhouetted in the window next to a half empty glass of water. Castiel himself was sprawled across the bed, one leg out from underneath the covers an arm hanging over the edge.

"Castiel." Dean said quietly at first only eliciting a slight groan, "Castiel, get up." He said louder, this time he rolled over. Blinking heavily, he sat up turning on the light; apparently he only wore boxers to bed - not that Dean didn't most of the time - but he was still a bit surprised. Castiel turned and looked at him with squinted eyes, "Uh…dibs on the shower." Dean said quickly backing out of the room and into the hall heading for the bathroom. He turned on the water, letting it heat while he brushed is teeth. A few minutes later he stepped in, letting the hot water run over his shoulders. He was actually kind of looking forward to today; he would be able to work with all the horses that his dad wanted him to, and probably Cyrus too. It wouldn't take too long to feed, and Castiel was kind of weird, but he didn't look like an idiot, he couldn't fuck up mucking out stalls.

By six o'clock both had showered, dressed, and eaten. Outside everything was a dusky blue, the sun not quite rising yet, but getting close enough for there to be some sort of light as they walked towards the barn. Dean didn't bother to start out the day in work boots knowing he would be able to start hopping on horses pretty soon he had pulled on his tall boots over a pair of jeans. Castiel wore jeans as well, but had a pair of sneakers on. Turning on the lights to the barn Dean led him to the feed room.

"Alright I'll make the food, each of the buckets has the name of the horse it's going to on, the stalls all have nameplates so it shouldn't be too hard to find." Castiel nodded watching as Dean started scooping grain, "and if you ever have to do this alone, there's a chart right here." He said tapping a piece of paper on the wall before handing Castiel the first bucket. Feeding went surprisingly fast, it normally took him an hour to feed all three barns on the property as well as the horses that stayed in paddocks. It was only six forty five when they finished.

Back in the main barn Dean had dragged a wheel barrow into the aisle leaning a pitchfork against it.

"I'm going to teach you how to muck stalls and then I'll give you a list of things you need to do before the end of the day." Dean said walking over to one of the horses gesturing Castiel over. "This is Murphy," he said picking up the halter and placing it in Castiel's hand. Dean couldn't help but smile a little at the look on his face, as he looked at the halter. It wasn't all that complicated, but it wasn't too hard to tell that Castiel had no idea what he was doing. He looked up at Dean who took the halter back opening the stall door. "This," he said tugging on the circular part at the bottom "is where the nose goes through, and this," he said pulling at the top, "goes over the ears."

"Okay." Castiel said taking the halter back and standing in front of the horse holding the halter out.

"Stand on his left side." Dean corrected and Castiel adjusted himself, slipping the halter over Murphy's face.

"Now what?"

"Take that strap that's hanging on the opposite side of his face." He directed, "Now hook it the metal ring just above his cheek. Yeah, good." He said, and proceeded to show Castiel how to hold the lead rope adjusting his hands before having him lead the horse out of the stall. "Take him to one of the empty stalls down at the end would you?" Castiel nodded.

He was back in a minute, and Dean handed him a pitchfork. Ten minutes later Castiel had one clean stall and a whole list of chores as he watched Dean saunter out of the barn.

* * *

**Wow what's this? I don't think I even need to put in a glossary for this chapter! Well I hope you all enjoyed and will review! **


	4. Last of the Mohicans

**YAY next chapter! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Reviews are air I breathe; they make me happy, and make it so I can make this story better for you guys (so if you have anything you think I could do better feel free to tell me over review or message me). I am loving the response I've gotten so far, five reviews and plenty of followers, I thank you all so much for that and everyone who has read it all. The same warnings as always apply as always I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter Four – Last of the Mohicans **

Castiel was starting to get the hang of the 'haltering thing'; he had spent the last thirty minutes turning out horses from the main barn and was starting to wish more of the pastures were closer. Before Dean had left to ride he had pointed Castiel to a chart of which horse needed to go out where and a rather extensive list of chores to complete afterward. Check the hay nets of the horses that were staying inside, muck all the stalls, groom the horses that were still inside – Dean had only given him a brief rundown of how to do that and he was kind of worried he wouldn't get it right - sweep the aisles, go out to the pastures to clean and fill water troughs.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he asked the horse, a big gray gelding who moved along slowly beside him, whose name plate said Gregory. The gelding snorted shaking his head, "Yes. Yes, I don't know either." He sighed patting the horse on the neck. At least he wouldn't have to do as much in the other two barns, Dean had told him that John or himself would handle the stallions for now, apparently a few were more rowdy than the other horses. In the 'broodmare's barn' as Dean had called it he wouldn't have to turn them out the pasture they normally went into had been flooded so he would only have to open doors into personal paddocks for each mare and foal.

Castiel said goodbye to Gregory patting him on the nose and letting him out into the paddock with a silent prayer that he wasn't putting any horses in the wrong place. He sighed, walking back towards the barn there were only two more horses he needed to turn out. John had turned out to be very interesting; an ex-marine, and pretty knowledgeable about history despite not having been educated in it. Dean was rather…brash, but seemed nice enough.

It had been a few months since he had returned home from college, and only few weeks since he had decided he would rather be somewhere else than home for a while. His brothers had begun to grow out of hand, or the ones who still lived together. Michael, Raphael, and Zachariah had always been close and apparently hadn't decided to split up yet, nor had they ceased their old antics. There was only so much Castiel could take before he had to leave again, four years away from them had made it that much harder to deal with his older siblings.

"Hello." He said opening the stall to another horse; he glanced at the name plate, "Rose." The mare looked up at him and her ears flicked back nostrils flaring ever so slightly. Most of the other horses had come up to the front when they saw him, but she hung back, with an expression he could only describe as a glare aimed at him. He stepped in holding up the halter, "Time to go outside." He said as he started pulling it on. He succeeded, sort of, only one ear under the halter the nose band hanging lopsidedly across her face. The mare snorted as he apologized fixing the halter and bringing her out of the stall.

From the barn he could see pretty far, miles of pastures separated by dark brown wooden fences. The grass and trees were all still green, but the green wasn't as vibrant as it used to be, duller, ready to begin fading into autumn colors. He started forward tugging on the lead rope to get Rose to follow behind. At least he was almost done with this chore. As he continued to watch the scenery movement caught his eye out in the pastures, it was Dean and a grey horse, cantering up the hill that rolled through the pasture. It must've been a pretty big horse to look that large from a distance, much bigger than the mare that was walking next to him.

Dean looked so…natural on a horse; he didn't look stiff like the generals posing on horseback that had decorated his history textbooks. He more of flowed with the horse's movements, while at the same time not moving at all. Castiel smiled; maybe he would be able to do that eventually. For now he felt awkward on the ground with the horses, he couldn't expect much better from their backs. While watching Dean he had all but completely forgotten the mare whom he was leading. That is until the rope snapped taught and he found himself moving backwards.

* * *

Picasso was one of the stallions his Dad had bought just before Sam had left, a gray Dutch Warmblood with Grand Prix experience, Dean had been thrilled when his Dad had started letting him exercise him. Dean had only jumped him once or twice, and nowhere near his full potential. He spent more time conditioning than practicing over fences. Not that he expected his Dad would ever let him jump Picasso that high, or any other horse for that matter. Any chance of that happening ended when he was four years old.

Dean brought him out of the stud barn, checking his girth and throwing the reins over Picasso's head before swinging up. At eighteen hands the horse's withers were about even with Dean in height, a lot taller than he was used to on any of the horses, Cyrus was seventeen hands, a good four inches shorter. Picasso was quite a bit calmer than Cyrus was although Cyrus was a gelding, the only stallion that he had any major concerns about being around someone less experienced (i.e. Castiel) was Mohican, a black Hanoverian with a bit of a temper. It wasn't that he expected Mohican to get out when Castiel was around, it was more of he barely trusted Sam to be around Mohican, much less Castiel.

It was a pretty short ride up to the back pastures, none of the horses were out on the grass, and probably wouldn't be again till spring when the grass started growing faster again. He spent about ten minutes trotting around the flat area near the gate, circling him around and around until he was engaging his back and hind end. His dad had always said there was no point to exercising unless you were using the muscles right. He moved farther back into the pasture were the inclines started, urging Picasso to first trot and eventually canter into the pasture moving farther up the hill. Hill work was great for the horse's strength and fitness, which was exactly what his father wanted him to work on. Picasso was an athlete, the bigger prizes he started to win and the more people who wanted his stud services the more money for Winchester Stables.

This was one of his favorite places on the farm; he could see the country side off to one side and the property to the other. All three barns, the house, the paddocks and the arenas were easily in view. He could see Castiel out in front of the barn, struggling with Rose who had decided she would rather eat the grass next to the barn than in her pasture. Dean laughed watching the mare drag him around, if he gave that horse one thing, her brain was just as big as her attitude. He considered riding down to give him a hand, but Picasso would only make Rose worse. Castiel would figure it out.

Another half hour later he and Picasso had finished their work out, and Dean hopped off at the pasture gate, to walk the stallion back to the barn. It was almost eight thirty in the morning by the time Dean had Picasso untacked, bathed, and put away. His next ride was in the stud barn as well, a much younger stallion than Picasso, only four. John had started him under saddle the year before and let Dean start riding him only a few weeks ago. He lived up to his name, Pretty Boy, was a huge red bay with a large white blaze across his face. Patting Picasso goodbye he walked down the barn aisle to Pretty Boy's stall.

A sharp snort caught his attention and he turned to see Mohican staring at him, ears pinned flat against his head teeth bared and neck stretched. He had no doubt if he had been close enough the stallion would bite him. Mohican had been a beautiful horse, still was a beautiful horse, despite the scar jagged puckered scar that ran from his neck to halfway down his ribcage. Dean vaguely remembered when he was little; his mother would hold him in front of her on the saddle, trotting Mohican around the arena while he laughed. One corner of his mouth twitched slightly and he kept walking, a lot had changed since then.

* * *

Castiel had managed to work his way through the main barn with the help of the other two stable hands once they'd shown up, all thirty stalls and the rest of the chores for it by the time he went up for lunch. He had spoken to them for a little while, or more of listened than spoke as he ate his sandwich. Their names were Jo and Garth, and they were exercise riders for the most part from the sound of it; though they did chores in the morning, so it looked like he was going to be alone when he went to see the broodmares. Jo's mom was the woman he had me the other night, the one whom Dean had bought him the flower from, he was pretty sure her name was Ellen. Garth had lived in town all his life, but learned to ride at a different stable, only getting a job here a few years prior.

He thought Garth was a little…too friendly. Where Dean would have been exasperated, Garth was telling him to 'bring it in'. It was strange. Jo was nice though. Castiel sighed walking into the broodmare's barn, greeted by the high pitched whinnies of curious foals. He rather liked the baby horses, at around four months old they were still all legs and eyes. He said hello to the foals and their mother's as he passed. Dean had said he should groom each pair first before putting them in the small turnouts that were attached to their stalls.

"Alrighty." He said pulling open the door to the end stall, the foal and mare came up to the front and he slipped the halter onto the mare, he was about to lead her out when he looked down at the little chestnut horse watching him. "Um…shoo." He said, waving his hands, but only receiving a blank look in return. "I need your mother for a little while; I'll uh come back for you. Just…just stay there okay." He attached the lead rope to the mare's halter and led her out, hooking her to the crossties in the middle of the aisle. _ Alright, now I need to get her brushes and I'll –_ his thought cut off as he turned around a pair of big eyes staring up at him. A sudden thought occurred to Castiel that this small, awkwardly shaped, young horse could turn around and just run away. Terrible things could happen, he could run into a fence, break his leg in a pot hole.

"Just…don't move little guy." He said looking him in the eye, the foal blinked. Castiel looked around spotting a tiny halter hanging on a hook next to their stall, moving slowly he walked to the stall picking up the halter he turned around, the foal hadn't moved. He let out a sigh of relief as he fastened the halter only to be struck with another dilemma. Where would he put the foal, he seemed attached to his mother and Castiel worried he would be scared if he put him back in the stall. He was too short to be hooked onto cross ties. Castiel looked down at him having an idea; he clipped a lead rope to the halter and tied it around his waist. "All right little guy. Let's go find some brushes."

* * *

Dean had decided to take a break and see how the new stable hand was doing. When he couldn't find him in the main barn or the house he walked down to the mares. He was a bit faster of a worker than he had expected, though he still wasn't expecting much, he had seen Jo and Garth they had probably been there to help him out. Work was definitely going quicker with him around, without having to do barn chores he was already almost done with the horses he had to exercise, he was definitely going to get to ride Cyrus again, maybe even have time to relax."

Walking into the barn he immediately found Castiel, brushing one of the mares, her foal was standing behind him. Neck stretched out reaching for the hoof pick that was stuffed in his back pocket. Dean cleared his throat loudly and the three of them looked up, Castiel and the baby looking more surprised than the mare. Dean raised an eyebrow noticing the lead rope tied around Castiel's waist.

"What're you doing?" He asked striding down the aisle, doing his best to hide his amusement.

"He followed us out of the stall, and I was afraid to leave him alone." Castiel explained as he continued to groom, "I didn't want to leave him standing on his own, but he's too short for cross ties so I did this." He said gesturing to the rope.

"She," Dean corrected, "That's a filly, her name's Dancer."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Castiel apologized to Dancer, who glanced at him casually before returning to trying to wrap her lips around the hoof pick. Dean smirked; he was still having trouble deciding who was weirder, this guy or Garth. At least Castiel was quiet most of the time. Dean walked up to him and started fumbling with the knot he had tied around himself. _Does this guy not know how to tie a bow?_ He wondered pulling at the odd ends. He could feel Castiel's eyes on the back of his head as he leaned in closer, finally pulling out the last loop and slipping it off of Castiel.

"You know, it would be a lot easier," Dean said leading the filly to the side of the aisle, "just to tie her up to the stall." He said tying a slip knot around one of the cast iron bars.

"Oh."

* * *

**Glossary **

**Bay – A color where the main coat is brown varying from bright reddish browns to dark almost black with a black mane, tail, legs (generally to about the knee) and classically the muzzle and the tips of the ears. There is also a variation called Seal Bay in which the horse is pretty much black except for light brown on soft spots such as the muzzle and the flanks. **

**Blaze – A thick white facial marking going from the forehead down to the muzzle and sometimes completely covering the muzzle as well**

**Broodmare – A mare that is used for breeding purposes. **

**Colt – (while not used in this chapter might as well add in for distinction) a male baby horse.**

**Cross ties – A way of tying a horse while grooming and tacking, a rope attached to the wall on either side of the stall or barn aisle is attached to square metal piece s of the halter on either side of their face close to the muzzle.**

**Ears back – When a horse's ears are pinned flat to the top of their head, this is body language for "I'm pissed" **

**Filly – A girl baby horse**

**Foal – A baby horse **

**Grand Prix - Very high level show jumping the fences are at about five feet three inches purses (total amount of prize money to be given to all placers) can range from 10,000 to in the millions. **

**Hands – The unit of measurement of a horse one hand is equal to about four inches so Picasso at 18 hands is six feet at the withers (see withers below) and Cyrus at 17 is a bit over five and a half feet at the withers**

**Hay Net – a net made of thin rope meant to hold hay so a horse may snack on it throughout the day. **

**Withers – The point on the horses body where the spinal vertebrae meet the neck vertebrae on a horse it is just behind the base of the neck and above the shoulder, it is the point hands are measure to, so including head and neck the horse is actually a bit taller than given in hands. If you would like a picture or diagram you could probably google it.**

* * *

**Thankyou so much for sticking through another chapter! This was pretty text heavy, not a lot of dialogue but I hope you enjoyed it! We got to see from Castiel's point of view for the first time yay! I've been kind of scared to write from his point of view, he's a difficult character in general, and in an AU it's even harder to wrap my head around him. Please review on how you think I'm doing with him, both from his view and in dialogue with Dean and how I could do better, or review on anything else you might like! Thanks again for reading!**


	5. She Went the Same Way

**Sorry the slightly longer wait for this chapter haha, I'm doing a film making work shop and spent all of yesterday (that's a lie, It was actually a week ago that now that I wrote that) writing the script for the short movie we'll be filming. That'll be going on all week, plus homework and finals looming on the horizon updates won't be quite as quick as the first four chapters were, but I will try to get them done as quickly as possible. Thanks so much for the reviews on this! Same warnings as always please enjoy! Also, special thanks to fromidam for offering to beta (and doing a fantabulous job I might add)!**

**Chapter Five – She Went the Same Way**

It had been two weeks since Castiel had arrived at the farm, and Dean was finally getting used to sitting across from him at dinner every evening instead of Sam. Castiel was different from his brother; shorter for one, but also a lot quieter, and he had more of an interest in the horses (even if he was hopeless with them – the other day Dean had watched their new stable hand be pushed into a water trough by an overly-affectionate mare). There were similarities, though: they were both nerds. Castiel seemed more attached to books than laptops, but Dean didn't see that as much of a difference since they were both always reading something. Dean wondered if they would've gotten along.

Castiel was getting better at stable chores at least, though Dean was pretty sure the other hands had been helping him out a bit. But the work was getting done, which meant Dean could get in more practice with Cyrus. There were three more weeks until Blackridge Classic – it wasn't a huge show, but it would be nice to get back into competing after a few months off. A lot of people from the barn would be going: boarders, a few of the lesson kids, and the riders that his dad hired would have a mount or two too. His dad was having him bring a couple of the horses he exercised, Pretty Boy and Larken, as well as Cyrus. The two horses, a stallion and a gelding, needed more show experience before they were shown in the Grand Prix. His dad always hired riders to take the horses in the big classes, even if Dean argued it would be less expensive if he just let him take them. John wouldn't have it though.

Dean looked over at Castiel, who sat at the end of the couch with his nose practically pressed into a book. It was nine o'clock, and for once he wasn't going to have to wake up before dawn – he had finally convinced his dad to have one of the workers take the morning feeding a few times a week. He was trying to decide if he wanted extra sleep or a trip to the bar when the phone rang. Castiel was closer.

"Hello?" Castiel said into the phone as Dean watched. "Yes, yes, he is here," Castiel said, looking up at Dean. "It's for you." Dean nodded, getting up to take the phone from Castiel.

"Hello?"

"Dean, it's Sam." Dean's eyebrows raised and Castiel looked up at him questioningly, but Dean brushed him off and walked out into the hallway.

"Sam, it's...It's been a while since you called."

"Yeah, sorry about that, I've been busy with classes and...stuff," Sam said, and Dean couldn't help but smile as he leaned back against the wall. He knew that voice.

"There's a girl isn't there?" Sam didn't respond. "Oh come on Sammy! She hot?"

"Her name's Jess," Sam said quietly.

"So you hittin – "

"Dean." He cut him off, and Dean chuckled, "I don't…I don't know if it's anything. So who was that that answered the phone?"

"The new stable hand."

"What's he doing in the house at nine at night?"

"He uh, he lives here. In your room."

"Dad sure doesn't take his time moving on huh?" Sam laughed bitterly.

"Sam…" Dean started.

"No, it's nothing. So what's his name?"

"Castiel. Castiel Novak," Dean replied, glancing out into the living room where said man was engrossed in his book again, lines creasing his forehead as if he were frowning at something in his book.

"Religious family?"

"How'd you know that?" Dean asked, looking away from Castiel.

"I'm in a theology class, angel of Thursday right?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, wondering why he was even surprised his brother knew that.

"So…is Dad home?" Sam seemed almost hesitant to ask.

"No, he's meeting with a potential business partner; he'll be in Chicago for another week."

* * *

Castiel sighed, leaning his pitchfork against the wall. He was finally done. It had been raining a lot the past few days so more horses had stayed in overnight. The stalls had been dirtier than normal and his chores had taken twice as long, but at least most of the horses he had had to groom hadn't been muddy like the ones that were out in the pasture.

"Castiel!" a voice called from the end of the barn and he looked up to see Garth walking towards him, a grin on his face. "Me and Jo are going out for a drink, you want to join us?"

"I don't really –"

"Oh come on, it'll be fun," Garth said, grabbing Castiel by the arm and dragging him out of the barn. Castiel opened his mouth to protest, but changed his mind. He found it could be difficult to say no to Garth at times. He was very…enthusiastic.

On the way to the parking lot they passed the arena, where Dean was in the midst of riding Cyrus, cantering easily along the rail. Over dinner he often talked about training and how there was a competition coming up soon. They made eye contact for a moment, and Castiel hoped he would pull Cyrus up and say he needed his help with something, but he kept going. He could've sworn Dean was smirking at his current situation, but Garth had pulled him farther along and he couldn't see Dean anymore. Castiel was shoved into the back seat of Garth's old Ranchero, Jo smiling at him from the passenger's seat. The old thing groaned to a start, and Garth put his arm around the back of the seat as he threw it into reverse.

It usually took thirty minutes to get into town with Dean, but as they creaked to a halt at yet another stop sign a little over halfway there it had already been half an hour. It was very dark in the countryside, he found. After spending most of his life in the city he still found it weird that it could be so dark out, even just after sunset. At home the sky would glow orange around the edges, lit by the light from street lamps, stores, bill boards, and the windows of countless apartments and high-rises. Here you could see the stars – not much else, but you could see stars.

"You're a much more cautious driver than Dean," Castiel commented, watching the distant lights of farm houses as they passed.

"Dean's kind of a maniac," Jo laughed from the front seat.

"Yeah, I would trust him with a lot of things, but not my car," Garth said, patting the wheel.

"Do you remember that one time –" Jo started, her words garbled as she held back laughter. Castiel started to tune out the conversation again. He wondered how his brothers were doing; Gabriel in particular. It had been years since he had seen him, his brother having come to visit halfway through freshman year. Gabriel had said that he was moving to California, needing to get away from the family for a while, and he would call. Castiel hadn't heard from him since.

It wasn't too much longer, despite Garth's slow driving, before they reached the bar. The three of them got out of the car and walked through the door. Or rather, Castiel and Jo walked while Garth moved with an odd bounce in his step, a smile on his face as he hummed the theme to a sit-com Castiel had seen once or twice upon Gabriel's insistence. Jo and Castiel sat and it wasn't long before Garth came to the table, hands wrapped around the necks of three beer bottles. He set them on the table, and sat before popping one open for himself. Jo glanced at him.

"Garth, you should really eat something with carbs before you start drinking," she said, a concerned frown pulling at her lips.

"Nah, I'll be fine," he said, waving off her comment. "So, Castiel, where you from?" Garth asked, taking a sip.

"Fort Worth."

"Fort Worth? You came all the way here from Fort Worth to work in a stable? Weren't there any there?" Jo raised her eyebrows.

"I needed a…change of scenery."

"So military family?" Garth asked.

"My brothers are soldiers, yes. I uh, I tried; I wasn't very good, I left. I went to college; after I graduated I stayed with them only briefly a few months ago before coming here."

Garth nodded and took another sip of his beer, motioning for Castiel to open his. A few drinks later and Jo's laughter came a bit too easily, and Garth was completely wasted; Castiel, however, only felt a slight buzz. The world was a bit fuzzier, a sensation he wasn't very fond of, but other than that he didn't feel too adversely affected.

"This guy, _hic_, can really, _hic_ -" Garth's words were barely intelligible between the slur and hiccups. "Hold his liquor," Garth managed to finish and Castiel looked down at the bottle he held.

"This is Sampson's Pale Ale. We aren't drinking liquor," Castiel said and Garth began to laugh hysterically. Castiel glanced at the table, not certain how that was funny. "So, Jo. Your mother owns the feed store right? Do you plan on taking that over? Dean has expressed that he would like to run Winchester Stables eventually."

"No. No, I want to be like my dad."

"Your father? What does he do?"

"Did," she corrected. "He uh, he was an equestrian, there was a bad accident when I was nine…he passed away."

"I'm very sorry for you loss," Castiel said sincerely.

"No, don't be, it was years ago. I've had time to adjust…You know, it was Dean who got my mom to let me ride at all. A few years ago he finally convinced her. I've picked it up quickly, guess I got it from my dad," she said with a soft laugh, taking a sip, "You know it's a miracle that John let his boys ride at all, even if he won't let Dean go to the Grand Prix."

"Why is that?" Castiel asked, brow furrowed.

"Their mom…she went the same way as my dad did. Had a real bad accident at a show, her horse lived, but they say she was dead when she hit the ground," Jo said quietly. Castiel frowned. He hadn't known. John had never mentioned a wife, nor Dean his mother. He had seen pictures on the mantel of a pretty young woman, but he'd never really questioned who she was. They sat in silence for a while, occasionally broken by Garth laughing to himself.

"What about you Garth, do you have any plans for the future?" Castiel asked.

"I'm…I'm…_hic_…in communnitity college, I'm going to go to university next year," Garth slurred. "I'm gonna be a child therapist," he stated proudly. Castiel was mildly surprised; Garth had always seemed a little, well, daft.

"Him and that ridiculous puppet," Jo scoffed.

"Mr. Fizzles is a reliable and professional colleague."

"It's a sock Garth."

"We're going to, _hic_, live in Miami, on a houseboat, giving therapy to children!" Garth slammed his bottle against the table.

Castiel looked at Jo. "He really is very drunk," Castiel said, glancing at the man who was now swaying noticeably in his seat. Jo laughed.

"Yeah, but that's actually what he wants to do, I've heard him say it sober."

They continued to drink for a while before Jo's phone rang, her mother needing her help with something. She left and Castiel and Garth stayed, talking as they drank. Well, Garth slurred unintelligible sentences as Castiel nodded.

"Ya know? Maybe she was right," Garth stumbled over his words. "I should've ordered something with carbs." Castiel just nodded, only half listening. "Nachos, we should get nachos!" Garth said as if he had had a revelation, sitting up tall as he yelled out, "Frank! Frank! We want some nachos!"

"I'm going to go use the bathroom," Castiel said, standing.

"Better hurry up man or you won't get any nachos." Castiel just nodded, walking off to find the restroom.

When Castiel returned he couldn't find Garth. The table was empty; their beers hadn't been touched, but Garth was gone. Frowning, he went to the window and found that the Ranchero was missing as well. The thought occurred to Castiel that Garth might have decided to drive home in his condition. He turned and headed to the bar, and the bartender looked up as he approached.

"Have you seen the man who was at that table, skinny, he wears a baseball cap."

"Garth? Yeah I had Ralph drive him home, he passed out again."

"He was my ride."

"I don't think he was going to be able to drive you anyway pal," the bartender laughed.

"Well I – " Castiel started, but he was cut off.

"There's a phone over there if you have someone you can call."

Castiel nodded thank you and waded through the drunken customers to get to the phone on the opposite side of the bar. It was late and he hated to call anyone at midnight, but he didn't really like the idea of sleeping on a bench somewhere. It was getting colder, and he wasn't wearing very heavy clothes. He dialed the number, and listened to the harsh ringing, twisting his fingers through the plastic-coated wire as he waited. On the sixth ring, Dean picked up.

"Hello?" he said, voice heavy with sleep.

"Dean?"

"Castiel, why the hell are you calling? I've gotta be up early."

"I uh...I need a ride."

"What about Garth and Jo?" Dean was starting to sound irritated.

"They left, Jo walked home, Garth is…indisposed."

"You didn't have a designated driver or anything?" Dean asked and Castiel paused.

"Yes, that would've been a good idea. I will remember for next time," Castiel said, and Dean didn't reply for a while, however he could hear the sound of him groaning as he pulled himself out of bed.

"Where are you?"

"The bar."

"Just…stay there. I'll be there in thirty."

* * *

**Well I don't think there was really anything in there that needed defining. I hope you all enjoyed, and once again I apologize for the late update. Please review; I will upload the next chapter as soon as possible. Thanks again for reading! **


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